I swing my legs off the chaise and start scanning the room for exits. I can’t stay here another second, but the room tips sideways again. Inhaling slowly, trying to regain control of my body, I look up at Sean. “What does a mobster want with me?”
Sean just stares at me, his lips pressed together firmly. His hands are in his pockets, and he’s wearing his old leather jacket. His helmet is on a table behind him. Every last bit of this was planned, and I missed it. All our nights together, all the things I said—to both of them. Confidence dies in my mouth and I want to run, to hide, but I can’t. Clutching the edge of the cushions in my hands, I squeeze hard, waiting for his response.
Instead, Marty answers, “Documents. Your mother unknowingly worked as a bookkeeper for Campone before you were born. At first, they probably looked like nothing to her, ledgers, supply lists, contracts, just regular business paperwork—but once she realized what she had, she knew Campone would be willing to kill to get it back. By then, it was too late to turn back. She was smart. Realizing the danger she was in, she ran but continued to hand in her work on time, passing it through a chain of people, as she put more and more space between herself and Victor Campone. It was weeks before Campone realized what had happened, what she knew. Campone searched for her, tracking down each person she’d come in contact with, each claiming truthfully they didn’t know where she was or what she knew. He didn’t believe them, though, and a lot of people lost their lives. She kept running, but held on to copies of the documents.
“When your mother took the job, she had no clue who she was working for, she just knew she was pregnant and needed the money to take care of you, Avery. It looked like a great job with flexible hours. Somewhere, while on the run, she met your dad and they both fell off the map. Campone didn’t find them, but he never stopped looking. He knew your mother kept the final ledger she was working on, but he suspected she made copies of her other work as well. If she had involved the police, your mother had the power to take down his entire empire with one blow. The night she died, something spooked her and she took the documents with her, trying to move them to a safer place. The bulk of her documents burned in the fire, but several are missing.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
Sean answers, “Based on the recovered pieces, it appears that several pertinent documents were not in the stack. She put what she was carrying in the glove box, so the center of the stack wasn’t consumed by the fire. The most damning ledgers she worked on are still out there somewhere.”
That’s why my mother was always so on edge. That’s why she was compulsively cleaning that spot in the cabinets. She probably did it without noticing. When I was younger, she’d tell Daddy to pack up, and we’d take off for an awesome vacation in a blink. I thought it was her being fun, but this makes me see her in a whole new light. Mom was scared. She was afraid of them finding her right up until the night she died. If I’d not found the coffee can, I wouldn’t believe any of this, but I did find it. I know she was frightened.
My throat feels unbearably dry, and my body begins to tremble. I tense, trying to stop it, not wanting to share this heartache with them. It’s a piece of me they’ll never know, and I want to keep it that way.
“What’s in these documents that’s worth killing for?”
Sean’s lip twitches and one side pulls up into a crooked smile. “What you’d expect—secrets, money, power. Every illegal transaction between Campone and half of New York’s elite: businessmen, congressmen, old money, and new money. Victor didn’t discriminate; he accepted anyone’s money freely. Everything in those documents is damning. Your mother worked as a bookkeeper at a small grocery store in Ronkonkoma. She was a smart woman, but she didn’t realize who was on the other end when she started tugging on that thread. Her world unraveled. She ran, hid, and took what she found with her. My guess is that she kept the documents hidden to use as leverage if Campone ever captured her or a member of her family. The night she died, those documents were being moved to a vault. Campone’s men took the opportunity to tie up loose ends and slammed a drunk driver into their car.”
“How?” I blink back tears and swallow hard. “How could you know all this, all this time, and not tell me?”
Sean stands there, rigid, unblinking. “Some things are better left alone. This is one of them. You had no idea what was happening, but you’re being played move by move, inching toward an early grave.”
“And I suppose your name is in those papers?”